


I want your love

by rivers_bend



Series: ask box fic [1]
Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: Coming Out, Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, M/M, Monogamy, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, time stamp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-28
Updated: 2014-01-28
Packaged: 2018-01-10 08:21:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1157315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rivers_bend/pseuds/rivers_bend
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>for the prompt: coming out, <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/1040120">Fashion Baby</a> 'verse</p>
            </blockquote>





	I want your love

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Fashion Baby](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1040120) by [rivers_bend](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rivers_bend/pseuds/rivers_bend). 



> The Obvious: I do not know any of the people whose names and public personas are used in this story and neither believe nor mean to imply any of this happened.

”What if,” Harry asks, pushing his fingers up under the snug ankles of Nick’s jeans. “What if next time you get asked if we’ve ever kissed, you say Yes. ‘Yes, actually, we’re shagging, and he’s my boyfriend, and we’re desperately happy together even though I miss him when he’s gone.’ What if that?”

Nick turns from the train wreck that is Arabella’s tango on Strictly, and looks at him. 

Harry’s on a week-long break in the middle of One Direction’s sold-out world stadium tour, and just an hour ago he was photographed leaving a swanky London eatery with the new face of Dolce and Gabbana, whose name is Caitlyn, and who knows a lot about horses and Shakespeare and not much about music or golf or anywhere north of Birmingham, and it was fine, it’s not that Harry didn’t like her, but he’s tired. He’s tired of the dinners, and the speculation, and the never-ending questions about what girl he’s crushing on/dating/sleeping with—depending on how rude the interviewer is—this week. And he’s tired of sneaking into his boyfriend’s flat. It’s a year now since Harry’s shagged anyone but Nick, and he’s sick of hiding it.

"I…" Nick says. He’s got his legs draped across Harry’s thighs, and he digs his heels in, like maybe that will drag Harry closer. It doesn’t, but Harry gets the hint and disentangles them so he can crawl between Nick’s legs and cuddle. 

"You?" he asks once he’s settled and Nick still hasn’t said more. 

"I want that," Nick says slowly. Arabella has stopped dancing and Bruce is talking. Harry leans out and hits the mute button on the remote. "But it’s not my place to do it." 

"But you want it?" Harry can’t think of a reason Nick wouldn’t want it, but he’s not sure. 

With a tight grip around Harry’s ribs, Nick kisses the top of his head. “Course I do. But I don’t need it. I’m fine.” 

Harry kisses back—Nick’s collar bone, which is what he can reach squished against Nick’s chest like this. “I don’t think I am fine anymore,” Harry says. 

"Well then," Nick answers. 

There’s so much more to say, but Harry can’t put it into words, and after a minute more of silence, Nick puts the telly back on, and they watch the rest of the dances and talk about nothing more serious than clothes and music choices. 

Later, they’re almost asleep when Nick says, “If you’re not okay, we should do something so you are okay. I need you to be okay.” 

"Yeah," Harry says. He knows. He needs Nick to be okay, too. It’s just. It’s a big thing. He wishes it wasn’t. It shouldn’t be.

"Whatever you need, we can do. But you’re the popstar. And I can’t do it for you." Nick sounds as heartbroken as Harry’s heard him in forever. It makes Harry feel good, but it makes him feel like shite, too. 

"Yeah," Harry says again. He wriggles under Nick’s arm and holds onto him. "Thanks for wanting to." They have three days left before he’s gone for another eleven weeks. Harry doesn’t want to waste them dwelling on this. But he’s got a lot to think about. 

Three days later, Harry and his band and crew are in a VIP area of a VIP lounge at Heathrow airport and everyone in earshot is someone Harry cares about. Their flight’s delayed, so he has at least an hour of a captive audience. “What if,” he says once he’s got everyone’s attention. “What if next time I get asked what girl I fancy, I tell them about Nick?”


End file.
